Journey to Cyprus
by HR always live on
Summary: Malcolm has done his best to clear Ruth's name after the Cotterdam scandal. Harry has to do his best to go and find her. A different version of series 8, HR.
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by the wonderful ladies of 3/8. Thank you :)**

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Malcolm knocked on Harry's office door with trepidation. "Yes?" He opened the door and went in, not sure if his news would be welcomed. "Malcolm, what can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you," he said, noticing the whisky glass resting on the table and the fact that Harry had loosened his tie a bit, the end of the working day. Again Malcolm was struck by the fact this wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

"You seem serious," Harry said. "Sit down."

Malcolm did. "I take it you heard of the death of Oliver Mace."

"I did," Harry said with satisfaction. Mace had been attacked in prison, probably because he'd wound somebody up, and prisoners didn't have the same restraint as ordinary citizens. A week ago he'd been found dead in his cell. Undignified as it was, the news had made Harry smile all the same. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer man."

"Well, quite," Malcolm said. "Anyway, I hope I haven't overstepped, but I started looking into how to clear… Ruth's name." He paused before saying Ruth, because no one had ever dared bring it up in Harry's presence. It was clear the subject was off limits, and no one argued. When her name was spoken Harry's eyes showed a desperate hope. The rest of his face hadn't moved at all, and yet Malcolm knew that he needed information that said she was alive and well.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked quietly after a moments silence.

"As far as I know she's fine," Malcolm said. Harry sighed with relief.

"I haven't looked into her," Harry said. "I can't. I can't look at CCTV pictures of her knowing that she has a whole new life and I'll never see her again. So, I haven't looked for her."

"I know," Malcolm said. He didn't speak for two or three minutes, waiting for Harry to collect himself.

"Go on."

"There were only two pieces of evidence against her," Malcolm said. "The photographs which we doctored, and the eyes only document that Mick Maudsley left for Ruth to find. The rest is circumstantial, because people believed that someone in section D had to know about the torture scandal." Harry nodded in agreement. "Well, the photographs… vanished off of government computers and the physical copies were destroyed." Harry's lips twitched with amusement.

"I assume they vanished with your help," Harry said.

"Yes," Malcolm said. "They were fake anyway, and wouldn't have held up under scrutiny in court. So removing them wasn't difficult. The trouble was the document. I couldn't destroy it, too many people know of its existence and it relates to more cases than just Ruth's. So I've dug around Mace's estate, now he's dead. His wife was accommodating. Apparently his life insurance has made her a millionaire. Caring for her late husbands secrets wasn't high on her list of priorities."

"What did you find?"

"A tape recording." Malcolm got the recording out of his pocket and placed it on the desk. "I didn't like listening to it, but essentially it means Ruth is innocent, which we can prove and… if she wants, she can come back to the UK."

"Are you… serious?" he asked. "She's cleared?"

"Not officially," he said. "I think that would require you talking to the Home Secretary. But there's nothing against her Harry." Malcolm bit his lip as Harry stared at the machine, almost in disbelief. "I found her address." Harry's eyes went to Malcolm's, shock there again.

"What identity is she using?"

"Rose Evans." Malcolm took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and placed it next to the tape recorder. "The identity Zaf arranged for her. Call me if you need anything. Any time."

"Malcolm?" Harry said as he reached the door. He turned to look at his boss and oldest friend. "Thank you." Malcolm nodded and left, closing the door. Harry quickly went to the blinds, pulled them and then locked the door before pouring himself an extra large whisky and undoing his top button. Then he looked at the tape recorder. Not knowing what he was about to hear he pressed play.

"So its agreed. We'll send them to Egypt." Mace's voice. Harry would recognise that voice anywhere. The second voice was male too, and Harry recognised it instantly, filling him with ice.

"I think that's best. We can get the information we need out of them there." The voice belonged to Nicholas Blake. Oh, Harry was going to enjoy the conversation with the Home Secretary tomorrow.

"I'm worried about section D," Mace said. "They have a tendency to stick their nose in when its not wanted."

"Is there any way we can eliminate them?"

"Maybe," Mace said. "Harry Pearce has one weak spot."

"Are you talking about…?" A pause. "Oh you are. So you noticed that too?"

"The mousy lapdog who follows around after him with her tongue lolling out?" Mace said. Harry felt his fist wanting to punch him for describing Ruth that way. And it was surely Ruth he was talking about. "I think he enjoys the attention," Mace continued. "His midlife crisis, trying to make sure he can still get a woman fifteen years his junior."

"Really?" Blake said easily. "I always thought it was more than that between them."

"Please," Mace said condescendingly. "Harry Pearce wouldn't fall for Ruth. She's so… opposite to his type."

"Say what you want about her, she is fiercely intelligent. Most of the information Harry shows me comes from her, and I'm damned if I know how she gets it."

"Granted," Mace said with grudging respect in his voice. "Another drink?" There was a lull in the conversation as glasses were refilled. Harry felt his impatience biting at him._ Come on._

"There's absolutely no chance anyone from section D will come on board?" Mace asked.

"None," Blake replied. "They are all far too honourable and believe they are doing the right thing. And if that weren't enough they are all blindly loyal to Harry Pearce. There will be no turning them."

"I thought as much," Mace said. "I'll have the minutes from our meeting redrawn. Destroy the originals. Add in her name."

"Harry will kill you," Blake said simply. "Don't put her name, put a code on it."

"Harry doesn't feel that much for her, I can assure you," Mace said.

"Maybe not, but he would want to kill you for setting up any member of his team," Blake said. "Put a code on it. And eliminate my name."

"Should I remove my own information?" he said wryly. "After all, if you're wriggling out of this…"

"Put Collingwood down. He's already disgraced himself, and he was high enough to give authorisation to something like this."

"Fine," he agreed. "But you sell me down the river Blake, and I will ruin you."

"I know," Blake said. "You know too much."

"I do," Mace agreed. "Until next time then." A crackle over the tape and then the recording ended. Harry felt the fury bubbling up inside him, and he listened to the tape twice more. He switched it off, curled his hand into a fist and punched his desk. It made his hand throb but was dully satisfying so he did it again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took in a deep breath. They'd set her up, and so callously. Clinically, like it was just business. Like Ruth hadn't thrown three years of her life away for something she never did. He was so angry that his vision blurred. He steadied himself, which took several minutes.

Then he looked at the address. Cyprus. She was alive and well, and living in Cyprus. God, he thought to himself. For so long he'd wanted to know where she was, and here was the information sitting right in front of him. She was a few hours away by plane. He could go and see her. He would have to, he realised. To make sure she was okay.

Harry had longed for her every day of her absence. He missed her terribly, more than he thought he would. During the day at work he refused to think about her, because then that would be all he thought about. It was when work finished and he was home alone that it was most difficult. Because his mind was free to wander and it usually settled on her. The last time he'd seen her. That kiss they'd shared. Urgent. Desperate. A kiss that was the prelude to three long years of separation. He'd pushed her away in his mind, because there was no hope that he'd see her again. Only now did he have the freedom to think of her without telling himself not to.

Jarred into motion, Harry suddenly typed in her name on the MI5 network. Her file came up within seconds, accompanied by a picture. It wasn't a great picture, but he didn't have any other photographs of her. The woman he cared about most in the world, and he didn't even have a picture. Harry stared at her image until she began to blur. Then he read the end of her file.

_Ruth Evershed was an apparent participant in the Cotterdam torture scandal. While evading capture she drowned. Her body was dragged from the Thames. File closed_. That simple? Harry thought. No. He would get that expunged from her file, but first he had to have a conversation with the Home Secretary. He needed her passport back.

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Ruth awoke with a jerk, breathing heavily as if she'd been running. She'd dreamed of Harry. That in itself wasn't unusual. She dreamed of Harry often. Much more often than she would even admit to herself. No, what was unusual was that Harry was in the urgency of an operation, running through London streets in terrible danger. Her dreams usually consisted of Harry kissing her, or reliving the memories of the romance they'd almost had. In her dreams she escaped the hectic madness of the grid, but this one had been awful.

He'd rounded a corner and found a gun pointing at his chest. The assassin had pulled the trigger, and the gunshot had woken Ruth up. Or rather, the adrenaline rush that had gone through her had, but it felt like the shot. "Please don't be dead," she whispered to herself. She needed Harry to be alive and well. It was the reason she'd left Britain after all. If he was dead...

"Hmm?" Came George's voice next to her.

"Nothing," she said. "Just a nightmare. Go back to sleep."

He groaned and then did just that while Ruth tried to slow her heart rate down. God, that had felt so real. She rubbed her face vigorously, praying that Harry was all right, and above all, staying away from guns and bullets.

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**Please leave a review, they mean so much. More soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was about to knock on the Home Secretary's office door when it opened and Blake stood in front of him. "Oh Harry. I have to meet the PM, can this wait?"

"No," Harry said certainly. "It can't."

"Is central London going to explode in the next hour?"

"No."

"Then it can wait."

"Fine Home Secretary," Harry said without moving. Blake walked two steps away from him by the time Harry pressed play on the tape recording, volume turned up so his receptionist could hear it too. "I'm worried about section D," Mace said. "They have a tendency to stick their oar in when its not wanted."  
"Is there any way we can eliminate them?" Harry pressed stop as Blake turned around, anger on his face.

"I think the Prime Minister can wait," Harry said. "Don't you?"

"Yes," Blake said tightly. "Why don't we talk in private?"

"Perfect," Harry said, his voice icy cold. They both walked through to his office. Blake sat down and sighed as Harry sat opposite him. "Do you need to listen to the rest of the recording?"

"I don't think that's necessary" Blake said. "I can't believe that bastard taped me."

"Insurance, I daresay," Harry said, knowing it was what he would have done in the circumstances. "In case you crossed him."

"Okay, what do you want Harry? What's it going to take to make this go away?"

Normally Harry would be insulted by the assumption that he could be bought off, hiding a dirty secret that could ruin Blake's career, but there was something more important than his integrity at stake here. "I want Ruth cleared of all charges, I want her British passport in my hands by the end of the day, I want a cash settlement for the fact she has spent three years on the run for a crime she didn't commit. For something you set her up for. If she wants it, I want there to be no problems if she wants to return to Thames House too."

"Fine," he said after a moments silence. "That'll make this go away?"

"Yes," Harry said. Blake stared at him for a few moments and then Harry felt like he just had to ask. "Why did you do it to her? Mace, I can believe. He didn't care about anything apart from his own skin. But why you? I've worked with you for years, and for a politician you are unusually decent. Ruth is a good person, she wouldn't hurt a fly. Why would you do that to her?"

"Say what you want about her, but she has two flaws. She is far too intelligent for her own good. She was bound to find out something about Cotterdam sooner or later, which is why I agreed with Mace. It couldn't come out, I couldn't afford it to. Her other use, as it were… I'm sorry Harry, but it was obvious she was your weak spot. You are the most rational and level headed man I know, except when it comes to her."

"She did not deserve that," Harry said firmly. "You know that."

"And you know that we need information from terror suspects," Blake said. "I didn't like agreeing to torture them, but the information given to us… it saved lives. Maybe thousands."

"I am not here to get into the justification of torture methods," Harry said firmly as he got up. "By the way, I'll be taking some time off. I need to go and find her."

"Harry you can't, the CIA representatives are arriving on Monday. We need you here, they are arranging the arrival of the president. I cannot authorise…"

Harry leaned against the desk, looming over him, using his most menacing tone. "I'm going out of the country. You should have thought about that before you tried to frame her shouldn't you?" Harry turned to leave but Blake spoke again as his hand touched the door handle.

"Mace was wrong wasn't he?" Harry turned. "Ruth. She's not just a midlife crisis for you is she?"

Harry nearly didn't reply, after all the Home Secretary hardly deserved his time or his honesty. But the fact that he had never voiced how he felt about her made his mouth move. "No. She's not. She's much more than that."

"You'll have the passport this afternoon," Blake said.

"Thank you." Harry left the office, feeling his heart race. He had to get back to the grid. He needed to book a flight to Cyprus.

* * *

_Several days later_

Ruth awoke to bright sunlight shining through the window, the distant sound of the waves on the beach drifting in the room. She rolled over and saw George already awake, watching her. Out of instinct she grabbed the bed sheet to cover herself up and he sighed, but didn't say anything. "It's a beautiful day," she said, indicating the weather.

"They're all beautiful days," he said with the casualness of someone who hadn't lived in Britain.

"Mm," she agreed. "When its been misty rain for a month in London, you learn to appreciate sunshine."

George nodded absently as he got up. Ruth sighed to herself. "I'm going to the market this morning. We need some more food."

"We don't," George argued. "But I know you like going there." She smiled at him slightly. Suddenly they both heard the TV go on, and knew that Nico was up. "I'll get him breakfast," George said. "You have a lie in." She smiled at him but shook her head.

"I'll have a shower," she said. He smiled, threw some clothes on, kissed her once briefly and then left the bedroom. Ruth collapsed back onto the bed, fiddling with her hair absently. Life was good with George. She had a beautiful house, a wonderful life on an Island. In Cyprus no less. It was good. But one thing she battled against constantly was that it wasn't home. And George wasn't... _him._

"I can't go back there," she told herself quietly. "So just… stop." She got up and quickly went into the bathroom. Maybe a shower would wake her up effectively, and stop her mind drifting back to London.

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**Thank you for the reviews so far. In the next chapter, Harry goes to Cyprus.**


	3. Chapter 3

Harry turned the key in the ignition of his rented car and sighed with satisfaction as the engine got going. He had already programmed the sat-nav with Ruth's address, because a man of many talents he might be, but he didn't know how to navigate roads or directions in Cyprus. It was estimating about two hours to get to Ruth's house. Or her last known address at any rate, she might not even be there. Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat at the thought. He didn't want to come this far only to be told she wasn't there. It felt more than unfair, so Harry wasn't allowing himself to think of it. He'd take things as they happened. So now, all he had to do was follow directions which didn't take up all of his brain power. So he was free to think of Ruth.

Knowing he was in the same country as her sent a powerful yearning through him. He needed to see her so badly that it shocked him. He was not the type of man to spend months thinking of one woman, he never had been. But Ruth, she was different. And when she left things were so unfinished between them, it had been all he could do not to follow her. Some days he wondered why he hadn't, when his life had turned so empty except for MI5.

In the frenzy of finding the proof of her innocence and getting her passport back, he hadn't stopped to think that she might not want to see him. That she might have her life all together, and didn't want him disrupting it yet again. Now he did. The thought that she might have settled down happily left him hollow. Could she have done that? Everything he knew about her pointed to no, but he had no idea what she'd been through in the past three years. His life had stayed the same, whereas hers surely hadn't. As selfish as it was, he hoped she'd be waiting for him. But maybe that was unfair. After all she had no expectation to see him ever again. Harry pushed the thought away. It left him feeling hollow. No, instead he focused on seeing her again. Would she be tanned now? He found himself suddenly thinking. After months in this heat, would her fair skin have turned brown? She might look radically different now, but her blue intelligent eyes and beautiful face would still be the same. He couldn't wait to see her.

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Harry parked his car about half a mile away from her house. He'd driven around it twice and noticed that she'd done very well for herself, if she lived there. A large white beautiful house near the beach, with quite a large garden. But no pool, he noticed. Maybe this near the beach she didn't need one. He put his jacket on despite the heat and slipped a handgun into the inside pocket. Just in case. Then he walked towards her house, feeling nervous but excited. If she wasn't there it would be a massive let down, but even knowing that his hopes were high. So he walked towards the house, nerves jangling. He thought that being a spy for this long, he'd be beyond nerves by now. Apparently not.

Without checking the surroundings he knocked on the door. Hearing footsteps he waited anxiously. The door was opened by a Cypriot man in his late thirties.

"Oh hi," Harry said. "Sorry, I'm looking for Ruth… Rose Evans," he said before it occurred to him that this man might not speak English.

"Ruth," he said. "Yes, she lives here, but she's not here at the moment. She's shopping at the market."

"Oh," Harry said. "I've been looking for her for a while. She does live here?" Harry questioned.

"Oh yes," he said. "Do you want to come in and wait for her? She won't be long."

"Um, no," Harry said making a snap decision. "I'll come back another time. Just tell her… an old friend called."

"No, wait!" he called as Harry turned away. "You have to tell me more than that. Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter," he said with forced calm.

"No come on," he said insistently. "I know she ran from something in Britain. And you're English. Who are you? If you threaten her…"

"I wouldn't threaten her," Harry said. Something in his face must have been convincing because the man nodded.

"I'll tell her you called." He turned and went back into the house and Harry heard the lock click. Clearly he didn't trust Harry not to come barging in. Mind you, Harry didn't blame him. His heart was low as he walked back to the car, but he wasn't defeated yet. He found his binoculars in his bag (he never got on a plane without being prepared), and then drove the car slowly, until he found a gap in the shrubbery which gave him a relatively good view onto the house.

He knew it was spying and invading her privacy but at the moment he didn't care. His desire to see Ruth was overwhelming. He'd worry about spying on her and her house later. Rolling down the window he kept an eye on the house, waiting for Ruth to show. He didn't have to wait long, maybe twenty minutes and a car pulled up in the driveway. An old and slightly weathered looking car he saw. He watched as the driver stepped out of the car and his breath caught as his heart gave an uncomfortable thump in his chest. It was her. But she looked so different. Her hair was long, much longer than he'd imagined. Had she ever had it cut since she left London? A dark sheet went down her back before she caught it and quickly tied it up. She wore a linen knee length skirt and a blue shirt. _Turn around,_ Harry found himself thinking desperately. _I need to see your face._

And she did, going to the boot of the car to get her shopping. It was her. After three long years he was actually looking at Ruth's face. Through binoculars, granted, but that didn't matter. She looked well. If he were judging, he also thought she'd lost weight since he'd seen her. He watched as the plastic bags were loaded on her arms and she walked up to the house. She opened the door and Harry watched with frustration as she went inside. He wanted her to be in front of a window, so he could watch. Scanning the front of the house she reappeared in what must have been the kitchen. She called over her shoulder and the man reappeared. She smiled at him and Harry felt his heart fall drastically. That kind of smile was one he'd longed to see from Ruth directed at himself. The man walked up to Ruth and kissed her. Harry looked away. He didn't need to see any more.

He leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. Up until that point, he had been hoping that Ruth had been living with someone without any romantic attachment. Friends. Sharing the rent. Any rational reason except the one he fought against accepting. But that kiss had shown just what the relationship was between them. And it left Harry hollow. Ruth had moved on. She'd forgotten him. She was living with another man, looking like she'd achieved the dream of happiness. He couldn't believe it. Harry's breathing became heavy as the realisation sunk in. The pain felt like a knife going straight through his chest. As someone who'd been stabbed in reality, this felt worse. For a few moments Harry actually considered whether he was having a heart attack. Then his heart rate slowed, and the pain subsided slightly. He took deep breaths, gulping at the air.

Suddenly his mind came up with a vision, of startling clarity. Ruth in bed with this man. This stranger. Her naked limbs thrown in abandon, his hands tangled in her hair as he pulled her close. Quiet moans and cries of ecstasy as they writhed in the bed sheets. The vision was so detailed that Harry found himself crying before he knew it. Tracks of tears on his face as he tried to reconcile this Ruth with the Ruth he'd known. "Oh God," he breathed. He realised that he'd been expecting her to remain single and wait for him to come for her. He now saw how ridiculous that was. After all, she might not have ever seen him again. She was young, attractive and intelligent. What man wouldn't want her? It was hardly surprising that she'd found one she wanted herself. But a part of him (a large part) had been hoping that they meant enough to each other that she'd stay single. Clearly not. And he'd once accused her of being naïve. Obviously he was the naïve one.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes in exasperation. What was he going to do now?

* * *

Ruth dropped the shopping on the kitchen table. "I'm home," she called before opening a bottle of water. Then she felt George's hands sneak around her waist. She turned and kissed him, a slight smile on her face. "Hi," she said. "How's your day been?"

"Fine," he said. "Nico's been playing board games with me all day. He's now kicking a football in the back." Ruth smiled at the thought of him. He really was a good boy, and had been so accepting of her when she came into his life. George pulled her hair down and kissed her behind her ear gently, making her shiver.

"Not now," she said, pulling away slightly. "I have to start cooking dinner." George sighed.

"Ruth, when are you going to let me in?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry," she said shaking her head. "I just… have a bad past. It sneaks up on me sometimes." She kissed him deeply. "Later tonight," she said with a slightly forced smile.

"You could talk to me about it," he said slowly, knowing she wouldn't. They'd had this conversation many times before.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I'll just… get started," she added, indicating the shopping.

"Okay," George said. "I'm sure it'll be delicious." He walked away and Ruth smiled before washing her hands. She'd found over the last few years that she really enjoyed cooking, she'd just never had the time for it, Now she did. And she loved it. Absently as she dried her hands she looked out of the window. A blue car was parked about a mile away, but she didn't think anything of it. Not until the next morning, when she looked again and saw it still there did it occur to her that anything out of the ordinary might be happening.

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**Thank you for the reviews so far. They really make me smile. More by Thursday.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A short chapter this time. Thank you for the reviews for the last chapter. Overwhelmed by them, so thanks.**

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Harry awoke with a start. "Jesus Christ," he said under his breath, stretching his neck. God, sleeping in the front seat of a car was a very bad arrangement if he intended to keep his neck in working order. He looked across to Ruth's house but couldn't see anything. He grabbed the binoculars and looked at the windows of the house. All in darkness and no movement. No one was up yet then. Harry looked at his watch, but it was still on Greenwich mean time, showing half three in the morning. What was the time difference to Cyprus? He didn't know, but guessed it was around six in the morning from the sun in the sky, just coming up for a new day. Too early for Ruth to be up then.

Harry made a sudden decision and he got a pen and a sheet of paper and wrote a short note. But it took a long time to write, because he wasn't sure what to say. Eventually he folded it and wrote her name on the front, wishing he had an envelope with him. He left the car where it was and walked down to the house. He hovered around outside, wondering where he could put it that the man Ruth was living with wouldn't find it. He knew it was risky, but he wanted to leave it for her. There was a garage but the car wasn't parked inside it. Harry peered through the window of the car Ruth had drove yesterday. There was a women's jacket on the back seat and a few hair clips on the dashboard. A magazine was on the passenger seat, and not one of those glossy vapid women's magazines either. History magazine, in this issue the main article was about Ethelred, King of Wessex. There was no doubt about it, this was Ruth's car.

He had a look at the garage door and wondered if it made a noise. He took a risk and opened it about half a foot. Silent. Opening it up he saw a much nicer car inside. It must be her partners. So Ruth was the sole driver of her car. He closed the garage door and walked around her car once more before he saw it. The passenger window was open, just a touch. Enough to slip the note inside. He did that and it landed on her magazine. All he had to do was watch and wait.

Walking back to the car he wondered if he was being stupid. After three years why would she even bother to see him? Why would she even care any more? Maybe he should just get on a plane back to Heathrow, and leave this all behind him. She was clearly very happy with her new life. What would be the point in dragging her back to London? This was insane. All he wanted to hear from her was that she loved him and of course she'd leave her carefully reconstructed life to head back to dreary London. Her partner meant nothing to her and all she wanted was Harry. Clearly he was living in a fantasy land.

Rounding the corner of the dusty road, for the first time in months he was beyond shocked. Ruth was sitting on the bonnet of his car, glaring at him. Her gaze softened slightly when he came into view.

"What the hell are you doing Harry?" she asked, her voice low and a hint of amusement on her lips. "Spying on me?"

It took a moment for the shock to wear off, and when he recovered slightly he shut his mouth which had been hanging open. Harry couldn't help it, he smiled at her. She slipped off of the front of the car, standing up, her blue eyes burning at him. "Harry," she said quietly.

"Ruth." For long minutes neither of them spoke, not knowing what to say. They simply looked at each other in the silence.

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**I know a bad place to leave it! More tomorrow :)**


	5. Chapter 5

"How did you know I was watching you?" Harry asked quietly.

"I didn't," she said. "I knew _someone_ was watching me, I didn't know it was you. This car's been here too long, and I haven't survived in exile for three years without being observant. I knew I was being watched, I just didn't know why."

Harry sighed. "Awfully brave. Coming out to a strange car early in the morning when you didn't know who was here," he said. Ruth reached behind her and grabbed something. Harry felt his eyes go wide as he saw a gun in her hand.

"I'm not stupid," she said. Harry didn't believe she'd ever fire a gun, but it was good to know she had it. Just in case. "Why didn't you knock like a normal person? Was that too mainstream? Or…" Fear filled her face with pulled at his heart uncomfortably. "Or am I in danger? Am I being watched? By someone other than you?"

"No," he said quickly. "You're not. And I did knock. You weren't home." He took a deep breath and looked at her, trying to mask the hurt on his face. "I spoke to… whoever it is you live with."

"George?" Ruth said in surprise. "He didn't tell me." Harry shrugged because he's not surprised by this. "Why? Why wouldn't he tell me that you came to see me?" Harry didn't answer, mainly because, to him it was obvious why George never mentioned it. "It's… so good to see you," she said, a smile hovering on her lips.

In spite of the fact that Ruth clearly wasn't pining for him, he smiled back at her. "It is," he agreed. "You look well. Happy." She blushed in embarrassment.

"About George…"

"You really don't have to explain," he said firmly, even though his chest was throbbing in pain at the thought of George.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said quietly. "I thought… Well, it seems I was wrong. How are you?"

"I'm okay," he said. "I ignore what you told me before you left London. I got shot." Her eyes went wide with fear. Then rationality seeped back in as she saw he was standing and clearly fine.

"It seems you're a hard man to kill," she said. "For which I'm grateful," she added.

"I'm sorry," he said. "For sneaking up on you. I should have just left, when I saw… George. It was selfish of me to stay."

"Why did you come to see me in the first place?" she asked. "And I've wanted to see you Harry. You can't come all this way without even talking to me."

"I have something for you," he said. He stopped looking at her for the first time in minutes and unlocked the car. He reached into the glove compartment and gave her an envelope. She took it, confusion on her face. "Open it."

She did. Her fingers touched her British passport and drivers licence with almost reverence. "Oh God," she said in a whisper. "Harry… what did you have to do to get these?"

"Malcolm," he said succinctly. "You're free."

She went pale and then her legs went from under her and she collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. "God Ruth, are you okay?" he asked, crouching down to her.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. "Sorry, came over faint for a moment." She took several deep and steadying breaths. "I'm okay now."

"Maybe I should have warned you," Harry said quietly.

"Help me up," she said. He did, hands on her arms, the first time he'd touched her in three years. When she was standing she brushed her hair out of her face. She looked different with longer hair. Younger. Even more beautiful.

"I've missed you," he said.

"I know," she replied after a moment, tucking the envelope in her pocket. "I've missed you too," she admitted.

Harry sighed heavily. "Ruth, I… All I want is for you to be happy. I'm not here to drag you back to London. I just… you deserved to know that you don't have to keep running, and you have your life and freedom back."

"Thank you," she said firmly. "None of this was your fault you know."

"No?"

"No," she said. "We all know the risks when we join MI5. We're briefed on the attractions repeatedly before we sign on the dotted line," she added with sarcasm. "None of this was your fault."

"That's kind of you," he said.

"Look, I have to get back," she said. "I have to make Nico his breakfast and take him to school."

"Nico?"

"George's son," she said. "I want to see you again before you fly back to London. Can we meet again?"

"Yes," he said, smiling in spite of the fact he'd just discovered another tie to keep her away from Britain. "I've left my number on a note in your car."

"Is it still the same number?" she asked curiously.

"Yes."

"I don't need a note Harry. I know that phone number off by heart. I've dialled it enough times."

"Yes you have," he agreed with a smile, pleased that she still remembered.

She looked at him once more as if seeing a man so much more than what he was worth. Then, much to his surprise, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. She blushed prettily. "I'll call," she promised.

"Bye Ruth." She walked away and was out of sight in moments. The point on his cheek burned where her lips had touched his skin. He felt so conflicted. He was happy to have seen her, and that she was happy. He was so disappointed that there seemed to be no room in her life for him any more. He shook his head and drove to find a hotel. A shower and the chance to sleep in a bed would be very handy. And in the meantime he'd try not to think about Ruth too much.

* * *

Ruth made the coffee, her mind running a hundred miles an hour as Nico sat at the kitchen table eating his breakfast. She could barely believe she'd met Harry this morning. It seemed unreal. But the passport in the pocket of her jeans made a reassuring lump against her leg, which told her it wasn't a dream. She'd thought about Harry often, and seeing him in real life as opposed to her imagination was startling. The lines around his eyes had got a bit deeper and he'd needed to shave, but otherwise he was exactly the same as she remembered. Warm hazel eyes which always seemed to be more intense when he was looking at her. She felt so guilty. Not to George, but to Harry. Because she hadn't waited for him. Hadn't trusted the fact that one day he'd come for her.

She hadn't gone out this morning with the intention of finding him, but she'd woken up and seen the car, still where it had been yesterday afternoon. And she'd got curious, or overly paranoid depending on your point of view. When she saw that no one was present she had a look through the windows. The bag on the back seat had a tag that said LHR. So her observer had come from London, and was probably British. There was nothing else to give away who it was, so she'd waited. She hadn't realised how much she'd hoped it was Harry until he walked around the corner.

"Morning," George said as he came into the kitchen, picking up a cup of coffee. "Hi mischief," he added, ruffling Nico's hair, making the boy smile. "Sleep well?" he asked Ruth.

"Why didn't you tell me someone called for me yesterday?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Nico, go and watch television," George said to get him out of the way.

"But it's a school day."

"Special treat," George said with a forced smile. "Go on." Nico raced into the lounge, well out of earshot as the TV started blaring away.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she insisted.

"Because I didn't know who he was," George said. "I knew he was English but that's all. He didn't even give me a name or a reason that he was looking for you. So what am I supposed to tell you? This strange man showed up asking about you today?" He sighed. "I know you ran from something in Britain. What was I meant to do? Scare you senseless?"

"I needed to know," she insisted.

"Maybe," George said. "So who is he?" Ruth looked away from him. "You must have seen him, tell me who he is."

"A friend," Ruth said, her voice soft. "An old friend I haven't seen in years."

"So this "friend," was he ever more than just a friend?"

"No," Ruth said with regret which she hoped he couldn't hear. After all, their relationship had never really got off of the ground, despite how she felt about him. "I used to work with him. Harry." When she spoke his name she felt a lump in her throat.

"Why is he here?" George asked gently.

"To see me," she admitted. George nodded, like he'd heard the worst and then turned away from her. "George?"

"I'm taking Nico to school," he said firmly. "Then I'll go to the hospital. I'll see you later tonight." She didn't say anything at all to stop him. Just watched as they both left the house quickly and listened as his car drove off. She bit her lip, deep in thought. Neither man had told her this, but she knew that she had a decision to make.

* * *

**Massive thanks for the enthusiasm so far, and to Jenn who helped me with this chapter. Hope it reads in character for all three of them, and I'd love another review if you have time. Thank you.**


	6. Chapter 6

Harry spent two days alone with no contact from Ruth at all. He didn't worry, he knew she'd call when she was ready. It gave him time to sleep, enjoy a bit of warm sunshine without the threat of London rain and drizzle and read up on the President's visit to Britain. So far no threats on his life, so it looked like Harry would have a job when he got back. He thought about Ruth constantly. Wondered what she was doing, what she was thinking. Wondered whether she would call him at all. But he wasn't going to get on a flight back to the UK without talking to her again.

Even with her life here, he couldn't help but hope that she'd want to come back to England. All he could do was wait and think about her. On the third morning a text message was waiting on his phone when he woke up. _Meet me at a café in town. Latchi at 1pm. Hope to see you. Ruth x._

Harry put the phone aside and lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There was no way on earth that text message was from her. If nothing else, Ruth wouldn't text him, she'd always call. Even when she worked for him, he'd only ever received one text message from her, and that was when her phone had been in her pocket and pushed the buttons accidentally, sending him gobbledygook. Also, Ruth wouldn't put a kiss at the end of her text message either.

So, Harry's best guess was that George wanted to meet him. What had Ruth told him that meant he wanted to meet Harry? What had she said to make George think a meeting was necessary? Had she maybe made up her mind, he thought, his heart leaping in his chest. No Pearce, don't get your hopes up, he told himself. It could be a hundred different reasons. Simply checking out the man who was after Ruth.

Harry got up quickly. He had things to do this morning before the meeting. He needed a shower, and he needed to check out the café, and make sure he wasn't walking into a trap.

* * *

Harry had been sitting in the café for about an hour, ordering coffee and reading an English newspaper while keeping an eye out for company as he was facing the window. He was more than curious about George's appearance. He loved to be proved right. George walked through the door and scanned the café until his eyes settled on Harry. He walked towards him but before sitting he just looked at Harry.

"You don't seem surprised that I'm here," George said.

"I'm not," Harry replied, closing the paper. "Ruth doesn't send text messages. I thought it was you." George sighed and sat down opposite him. "Why are you here? Why did you need to meet me?"

"Are you in love with Ruth?" he asked calmly.

Harry looked at him directly in the eye. "I'm not answering that."

"I've lived with Ruth for a year," George said. "I deserve to know. Answer me." He spoke calmly which was probably the only reason Harry replied.

"Yes."

George closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he ordered a coffee from the waitress before turning back to Harry. "Go home," George said. "You can't just turn up here and expect her to come back to London with you. After three years! Do you really think she's going to drop everything?"

"No," Harry said. "I don't think that. I had to come and see that she was okay. Not harmed or hurt in any way. And I came to give her back her passport."

"She has a passport," George said.

"In her real name," Harry said. "I've had her cleared of suspicion. I wanted to give her her passport."

"What's her real name?" George asked suddenly, his dark eyes burning at Harry.

"Ruth Evershed."

"God I don't even know her real name," he said as the waitress brought over his drink. "What happened back then? Why did she have to leave?"

Harry thought this man needed the truth so he gave a basic account of Cotterdam, without mentioning any names. When he'd finished George nodded as if this didn't surprise him. "She's so clever," he said. "Of course she'd work for something like that. She'd never tell me." He took a sip of his coffee. "She was scared when I met her, but she'd never tell me why." He shook his head sadly. "Is she in love with you?" George asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I'm not the one who can answer that."

"What does she see in you?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," Harry said. "We worked together, and we're always going to be… important to each other."

George looked at him for a long time. So long that Harry started to get uncomfortable. "She's going to leave me."

"Has she said that?" Harry asked in surprise.

"No, but I can tell," George said. "I know her so well. She thinks as long as she doesn't say anything, I can't see what she's thinking. But her face, it's like glass. I can read her. She's spent the last few days thinking of you."

"I don't want her to come back to Britain," Harry said. "I don't think she should. It hurts me, but I think she should stay here with you and the life she's made for herself."

That surprised George. His eyes went wide. "Why? Why wouldn't you want her for yourself?"

"Because I want her to be happy," Harry said honestly. "I would love her to be with me back home, but only if she wants it." Harry paused before continuing, because the truth hurt. "And I think… she would probably be happier staying here."

"You surprise me Harry," George said. "I can't imagine you just giving up."

"I'm not going to fight for her," Harry said. "It's pointless. She'll know what she wants, and nothing I say will change that. I love her more than I care for myself or my own happiness. I… love her enough to let her go."

* * *

Ruth sat outside watching the sun go down while sipping her glass of red wine. She picked up her book to distract herself. George was watching her from the house, a feeling of eminent sadness coming over him. He loved her. Not in the same way he'd loved his wife, but he loved her all the same. George believed that you only loved with complete passion once in your life. Unfortunately for him, he had the sense that Ruth did love passionately. Just not him. He wanted to hate Harry, but he couldn't. It was clear that Harry's first concern was Ruth's safety and happiness. He couldn't hate a man for that. On the other hand he could be jealous of him. And he was, very much so.

Ruth was a good woman, she wouldn't cheat. So the look of passion and love in Harry's eyes when they'd met didn't bother him in that way. What did hurt him was he knew Ruth felt the same towards him and he, George was getting in the way. He sighed. He knew at some point soon he and Ruth would have to have a conversation, but not tonight. He didn't want things to change right now, when she looked so perfect, the dying sunlight sparking off of her hair as she became absorbed in her book. Her face in profile as a little frown grew across her brow with her concentration. He wouldn't talk to her now. Maybe tomorrow he thought to himself. Yes. Tomorrow.

* * *

**Thank you for the reviews so far. Glad this is being received well.**


	7. Chapter 7

"Thanks for calling," Harry said quietly over the café table. A different café this time. "My flights tomorrow evening."

"So soon?" Ruth asked in surprise.

"I've done what I came here to do," he said watching her finger as it circled the rim of her teacup. "You have your freedom, your passport, and I've checked to make sure you're well. I have to get back and suffer the Home Secretary's wrath for leaving during a presidential visit."

"Yeah, about that," Ruth said, a smile on her face. "How did you manage to get the time off? I keep up with current affairs in the UK. I know he's in London."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I told him if he wanted to keep his job he'd do whatever I wanted. Which included giving me some holiday, your identity back, your death certificate revoked and a large sum of money for your exile. It'll be cleared in a couple of weeks."

"How much?" Ruth asked curiously.

"Your salary when you were my senior analyst," Harry said. "For each year."

"That'll be handy," she said with a smile. "I could do a lot with that money." Harry nodded. "He set me up didn't he?"

"Yes," Harry said. "Well, helped. I still think Mace was the main orchestrator of the whole thing. They thought you were my weak spot."

"Were they wrong?" she asked softly, watching him.

"No." He smiled at her. "Why did you let your hair grow?" She looked confused at the sudden change of subject and frowned slightly.

"I just did," she said. "Those first few months I wasn't exactly concerned with keeping it cut short. I actually went blonde for a few weeks. You're always told to change your hair colour if someone's looking for you." She smiled at the memory and he smiled too. Because she was right, that was one of the first thing spy's were taught. "I changed it back as soon as I found some hair dye. And then when I got settled in Turkey for a while, I just let it grow. Wondered what I'd look like. Why?"

"It makes you look…" he paused, his eyes burning into hers for a moment. "Different. Continental almost." She did, but her tanned skin helped contribute to that image. He didn't mention that though. "And beautiful as always," he said before he could stop himself. She blushed vividly at that and he stopped looking at her for a moment so she could compose herself. She did easily, once his hypnotic gaze was off of her.

"So you're going home," she said. "I'll miss you."

"We've barely spent twenty minutes together," he said succinctly.

"I know, but… It's been reassuring knowing you were only a phone call away."

"You can come back to London you know," he said, pushing his luck. "I don't mean for me, I just… you could come home."

"London's not my home any more," she said seriously. "Home is where you hang your hat."

_Or where your heart is_. But he didn't dare say it. There were some things that were just too much to put into words. "I met George yesterday."

That got her attention. "He didn't say…"

"He's not checking up on you," Harry said quickly. "I think he was checking up on me. Wanted to know why I was here."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I wanted to make sure you were safe," Harry said honestly. "That I had to see you."

"Harry…"

"He's a good man," he said, though it pained him. "He wants to protect you. Though I doubt you need it," he added with a smile. "And he loves you."

"Harry…" This conversation was escalating far more quickly than she'd anticipated and she wasn't prepared for it.

"I love you," he said simply. "But I'm not going to fight for you. You have a family and a life here, and all I want is for you to be happy. I think if you let him, he could make you happy. You have a dream life on a beautiful island. I think you should stay. But, if you change your mind, if you want to come back to London, I'll be there for you. I'm not going anywhere." He got up and kissed her cheek once. She said nothing, just watched as he straightened up. Harry didn't say what he was thinking. _I miss you terribly. I think of you everyday. Come home with me. Please_. He said none of it. Instead he squeezed her hand tightly. "Just promise me one thing. Take every chance you're given. It sounds… cliché, but you deserve everything life has to offer." He let go of her hand reluctantly. "Take good care."

"Don't get shot," she said, a smile on her face.

"I promise." He put some coins on the table to pay for their tea and then shook himself slightly. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye Harry." She managed to say that with a steady voice and he turned and walked out of the café. She waited until he was out of sight and she felt herself fall apart. Her breath was coming in gasps and tears were rolling unchecked down her face.

"Miss, are you okay?" the waitress asked in Greek.

"I will be in a minute," she said in gasps. "I'll be fine. Thank you." The waitress left her and Ruth kept crying. He was really going back to London. He wasn't going to pull her away from George, ask her to remember what it was like, the thrill of working together and catching bad guys as the tension crackled between the pair of them. He wasn't going to demand she leave him and go back to how it was years ago. He was leaving her with the choice. If she wanted Harry she'd have to reach out and take him for herself. So whatever she chose, she would have no regrets.

"Can I have a coffee please?" she asked the waitress, drying her eyes. When the drink was brought over to her something hit Ruth with startling clarity. If it had been George walking out of her life, she wouldn't care this much and it wouldn't feel like her heart was shattering into a million pieces. She needed to go back to London. She was going to go home.

* * *

"We need to talk."

Ruth had barely walked through the door and George was stood watching her. It was dark, she'd spent hours walking on the beach, thinking. She hadn't noticed time slip away from her.

"Okay," she said. "You're right, we do."

"Were you with him?"

"Yes," she said. "For a little bit. He's flying back tomorrow."

That surprised him, and it showed. "Are you… going with him?"

"No," she said. _Not yet._ It seemed unfair to voice it though.

"Please Ruth," he said almost desperately. "Please don't drag it out. If you're going to leave, just tell me."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking. "I love him. I don't want to feel like this. He's the most frustrating and infuriating man I've ever known. He does nothing except complicate my life, but I don't care."

"You're going to leave us?" he said. Ruth felt so guilty, but she had to be truthful.

"I'm so sorry."

"When are you leaving?"

"You're not even going to argue?" she asked in surprise.

"I think the best way I can explain it," George said slowly. "Is if my wife walked through that door right now. I wouldn't stay with you. Sorry if that sounds harsh, I love you Ruth. But the way I love her was different and you…"

"Wouldn't stand a chance," Ruth finished for him, understanding completely. "God I'm so sorry," she said. "All I've done is make your life more complicated, and messy. I never meant for this to happen."

"You never thought you'd see him again did you?" George asked.

"No I didn't," she agreed. "I'd never have brought you into this otherwise."

George nodded. "Can you stay until next Friday? Nico's in that school play. He so wanted you to see it."

"Of course I will," Ruth said. "Why are you being so reasonable? Don't you want to scream and shout at me?"

"No," he said. "Because that would only make you feel better about your decision." She realised he was right.

"Oh God, what am I going to tell Nico?" she said, shaking her head.

"Tell him you'll send him a postcard of the big clock," George said, forcing a smile.

"Stop being reasonable," she said. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," he said.

"I'll sleep on the sofa," she said. "Until I leave."

"He doesn't deserve you," George said quietly.

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not." She sighed and looked at him for a moment.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said. "So am I."

* * *

**I tried to make George's reaction more harsh, but it wasn't writing that way. Thank you for all the feedback and reviews, hope you can be kind enough to leave a review for this chapter. Thank you.**


	8. Chapter 8

Harry awoke to a message being given over the speaker on the plane. "We are now approaching Heathrow airport, we'll land in about ten minutes, please fasten your seatbelts for landing." Harry sighed with disappointment. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to be in Cyprus. Where Ruth was. But less than an hour after he'd left Ruth at the cafe he'd got an urgent call from the grid. They'd foiled an assassination attempt on the President and needed Harry back, no questions asked. Harry had tried to argue, but there was a limit to how much he could manipulate the Home Office. He was needed back, otherwise he wouldn't have a job or a pension. So he'd got on the first flight out.

Now that the plane was heading in to land he realised he hadn't even called Ruth to say he was leaving early. That had been stupid and selfish, he realised. But if she was staying with George, it might just have been for his own peace of mind. And his call might have just caused more trouble for Ruth and he didn't want that.

He turned his phone on when the plane was still taxiing and saw a dozen messages. He pushed Ruth to one side and made his brain focus on the security services. He had a feeling he'd need it.

* * *

A week passed. Harry hadn't been home for more than four hours sleep at a time, trying to catch the man who'd attempted to assassinate the president, and making sure that the most targeted man in America got back to the US in one piece. Ruth had called him several times but he'd never managed to pick up when she called. He hated that he kept missing her, and she only left one message. Usually if it went through to answer phone she just hung up. The one message she left was gentle, like she was. "_Hi, I've heard about the president. Don't worry about calling me, just whenever you have the time, or when this mess is sorted. I can imagine how busy you are. Don't forget to sleep. Bye."_

Much to his shame he hadn't called her. He needed to think about what to say and the subtleties of their relationship, which didn't coincide well with death threats to a foreign head of state. He needed time.

Harry took off his jacket, poured a generous measure of whisky and sat down on the sofa with relief. He could actually get a full nights sleep now, in spite of the fact it was one a.m. The glass was halfway to his lips when his doorbell rang.

"Oh fuck off, I've had the week from hell." He took a sip of whisky before he got up to answer the door. "What?"

"Hi."

"Ruth." She stood on his doorstep, the rain pouring down making it look like she'd swum there. "You… what are you doing here?"

"Drowning," she said, her lips forming a smile. "I've come home."

"Are you here for good?"

She nodded. "Yes." Her eyes scanned him up and down. "You look like hell."

"Attempted assassinations do that to me," he said, smiling at her.

"Can I come in?" she asked as he made no move to let her in.

"Yes," he said, picking up her suitcase which he'd just noticed. "Of course." They both moved into the house and Ruth closed the door. "Why are you here?"

"I have no one here," she said quietly. "My parents are dead, my friends think I am, so I'm here."

"No, I meant why are you in the UK?"

"I'm home." She sighed. "I'm back for you." Suddenly doubt filled her face. "Unless… what you said was meant as a parting shot and you never wanted me to turn up."

"No!" he said quickly. "Sorry, I'm tired, my logic is… low. Believe me, I want you here," he said firmly before his face broke out into a wide smile.

"You sure? I can find a hotel…"

"No, you can't," he said before she could finish. "Come here." She walked a step closer to him and he put his hands on her hips. A truly happy smile lit up her face as she leaned in and he pressed a soft gentle kiss to her lips. He drew back and looked at her, eyes closed, skin damp and a smile on her face. She looked breathtaking. He kissed her again, slightly longer and then kissed her jaw. He took a moment, breathing her in.

"You smell like rain." She smiled widely.

"I've been travelling for hours and standing in awful London weather, feeling very much like a drowned rat. I look awful."

"You look beautiful," he said, looking deep into her eyes. Her smile faded from her face, as the rising tension started to become apparent. She could feel her racing heart and hear her own breathing quicken.

"Harry kiss me," she said, quietly demanding. He did. Deeply with passion bubbling under the surface. His tongue delved into her mouth as he pulled her flush against his body. God she felt so good against him. But most of all she felt real. "I've missed you," she whispered into his ear.

"I know," he said. "So have I. I can't believe you're here."

"Well I am," she said. She lifted her hand and let her fingers touch his face softly. She followed the contours until her hand slipped down, rasping against his evening stubble. "I never got the chance to tell you. I love you too."

He looked into her beautiful honest blue eyes for a moment before kissing her desperately. His right hand tangled in her wet hair, pulling her close, urgent. He needed and wanted her so much. And she was actually here in his house. Late at night. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. It was enough to make his arousal known and he knew that she'd be able to feel it against her body.

She did a few seconds later and stopped kissing him, a sly smile on her face.  
"I'm assuming you have a bedroom somewhere," she said, biting her lip.

"I do," he said. "But no. Not tonight." She frowned and wanted to pull away but his hands held her in place, thumbs rubbing circles on her waist. "It's late, I'm exhausted and I bet you are too."

"Yes," she admitted with a shrug.

"I don't want to take you to bed like that," he said. "I want it to be right, not rushed." Ruth sighed but didn't argue. "God, you must be freezing," he said, taking in the fact that the rain was dripping from her.

"I am a little," she admitted.

"Go and use my shower," he said. "Warm up. I have a guest room…"

"Okay," she said with a smile. "If you're sure you don't mind me imposing?"

"I insist on it," he said with a grin. She kissed him again, slowly and gently, as if a reminder that she really was in London, and she wasn't going anywhere.

"I'm so glad I'm here," she whispered, pulling him into a hug, feeling his reassuring chest against hers, his heartbeat a steady quiet thump near her ear.

"So am I."

* * *

Harry lay in bed, listening to the shower, just outside his bedroom door. He only had one shower, and the fact that Ruth was naked in it made sleep impossible. He could hear the water falling down onto her, imagine her warm wet skin as she stood there. He tried not to think of her. As he turned over he knew that was a lie to himself. All he could do was think of her. He listened intently, waiting for the shower to go off and temptation to open the bathroom door to disappear. He wouldn't spy on her like that, but the irrational part of his mind kept presenting him with the option. The very attractive option.

Eventually the shower stopped and Harry breathed easily for a few minutes. Until his bedroom door opened quietly. "Can I join you?"

"Ruth…"

"Not for anything to happen," she said, walking closer to the bed. "I just want to be near you."

"Okay," he said, moving to one side of the bed. He felt the mattress dip under her weight as she pulled the covers over her. He couldn't resist her, he reached out a hand for her, touching her waist. "What are you wearing?" he asked quietly.

"One of your shirts," she said. "Hope you don't mind."

"No," he said. "I don't mind." He pulled her close, unable to stay away from her after so long and kissed her cheek. He nuzzled into her neck and breathed in the scent of her soap. "Mm, jasmine. Beautiful." Ruth considered making a quip about saying another woman's name in bed, "Who's Jasmine?" but she held her tongue. It was so nice being held by him, and he was so gentle with her that she didn't want any ill timed joke to spoil it.

"Sleep," she said quietly. He closed his eyes but didn't let her go.

* * *

**Thank you so much for the reviews. I'm so glad people like this story. Now she's back in London the rating _might_ go up.**


	9. M rated

**Here we go! Just as a reminder, this is M rated...**

* * *

Harry awoke slowly, feeling happy and well rested. He turned to his right but the bed was empty. No Ruth. No. _It can't be a dream._ She had to be here. He couldn't have dreamed all that. Impossible. Maybe he had longed to see her so much and had been so tired his brain gave him an image of her for comfort. He looked at the pillow and smiled. There were several long dark hairs on the cotton. She'd lain there. He hadn't imagined it. Thank God.

But where was she? Reluctantly he left the warm bed, threw on his dressing gown and crept downstairs. He looked through the gaps in the banister and saw her, standing in front of the cooker, frying bacon from the smell drifting up. She was a vision. Her dark hair was tangled, his white shirt which she wore made her look beautiful. It showed the backs of her legs off gorgeously. Tanned legs, but they changed to pale white halfway up her thighs. Then the shirt covered it so he couldn't see more. She was singing to herself, her voice clear and sweet. He didn't want to disturb so he crept back upstairs and got back in bed, a smile on his face.

In five minutes Ruth came back upstairs with a breakfast tray. Bacon sandwiches and tea. Perfect start to the day. She got into bed next to him, sleeves rolled up and kissed his cheek. "Morning," she said. "When was the last time you shaved?"

"I can't remember," he said. "It's been… a bad week." He started eating ravenously, not even remembering the last time he'd had breakfast. Probably his hotel in Cyprus. Their breakfasts vanished surprisingly quickly, empty plates on the tray. "You fry great bacon," he said, closing his eyes in satisfaction. She smiled.

"You don't have to go to work today do you?" He shook his head. "Good. We can have a lazy morning in bed."

"I'd like that," he said.

Ruth reached for the tray and put it on the floor. "I'm sorry. For being with another man," she said. "I should have known you'd come for me one day."

"No," he said. "You can't blame yourself. Please don't. It's not your fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault really." He sighed. "You were right to move on Ruth."

"It doesn't stop me feeling guilty," she said. "And when you came for me you thought I'd be pinning for you."

"No, I…"

"Don't lie to me," she said with a smile, her foot nudging his leg slightly.

"Well, I must admit, it crossed my mind once or twice." She laughed easily. Then the sadness crept in to her face.

"I should never have met another man," she said. "Knowing my heart was here."

"You don't have to feel guilty."

"I know," she said. "But I'm happy that I'm here. Home. As soon as I stepped off of the plane the rain was so heavy and the mist so low that I smiled. Because I had to be back in London. I could hardly be anywhere else. And that meant I was close to you."

"He asked me something," Harry said quietly, determined not to say George's name. Not while in bed with Ruth. "He asked what you see in me."

"And you want an answer?"

"I'd like one," he agreed.

Ruth rolled over onto her stomach and watched him carefully, considering, her head resting on her hands. "I'll be honest, I wasn't attracted to you at first. But while working with you, all those long hours stuck in the office together I began to see something else. You have integrity, you refused to get sucked in to all the scheming and politics, trying to do what's right for the country. You're intelligent…"

"Not as clever as you," he interrupted, making her smile.

"You have… the most hypnotic hazel eyes which I love. Eyes which can make me blush without a word being said. It happened without me realising it. My heart would give a jolt when I saw you unexpectedly. I don't know how it happened, I usually guard my heart very carefully. But I fell for you, and love... it doesn't need reason. Harry, you weren't the type of man I'd ever looked for. Seriously, being attracted to my boss? Too complicated. But I know that you're the man I need." She sealed the statement with a light kiss on his lips. He pulled her back for a deeper kiss, fingers tangling in her loose hair. "Mm," he murmured.

"So what do you see in me?" she asked.

"You're… you," he said with a smile. "You faded into the background when you first got to MI5, but then… more and more you seemed to be the one giving me the information I needed. Then I noticed you for more than your intellect. You had… have an understated beauty. And after a while I felt… this urge…"

"Shall we not focus on your urges," she teased lightly, her hand resting on his bare chest for the first time. He felt the shock of it going through him.

"I was going to say, I had an urge to protect you and keep you safe," he said dignified. "Before you tried demeaning my motives." She chuckled lightly.

"Is your mobile phone switched off?" she asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"Er yes," he said confused. "I won't be needed today. It's Saturday after all, and no foreign heads of state on our soil."

"Good. And the doors locked?"

"Unless you opened it while cooking breakfast."

"No," she said. "Good. I don't want us to be disturbed."

"Disturbed for…" his voice trailed off as she started to unbutton the shirt she wore. "Ruth…" he grabbed her wrists to stop her.

"What?" she asked, a smile on her face. "I want you. I always have." Her knee moved up the bed slowly, gently pushing between his legs. "And it seems you want me too."

"Are you sure?" he asked. Regret after the fact was something he couldn't deal with. He'd rather not touch her at all than have to deal with her regret.

"I'm sure." He kissed her deeply and pushed her onto her back while remaining lip locked. The kiss only stopped because they were both smiling too widely to continue. Their eyes caught and the smiles faded, the sexual tension replacing the carefree happiness of the moments before. He kissed the tip of her nose delicately, then worked his way across her cheek before sucking her earlobe delicately. "I love you." His voice reverberated through her deliciously.

"Then kiss me," she demanded. He did with relish. Her lips were soft, full and delicious. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to kissing her. Would it always be a novelty? Dipping his head he planted kisses over her neck, his hands stroking her as her own hands pulled him closer, gliding over his back. He could feel her pulse racing as he loosened a button on her shirt. Pressing a kiss to the revealed skin he went lower to another button as her hands laced through his hair. She wasn't wearing a bra, her breasts were free and soft. He couldn't resist cupping them gently, his thumbs feeling her hard nipples through the fabric. He kissed his way down her body until the shirt was undone, kissing her belly button last, tongue flicking against warm skin.

She sat up. She wore nothing but dark blue knickers and the shirt, now completely unbuttoned, showing a pale strip of skin down her body. Knowing her breasts were only covered by white cotton was making him throb with need for her. He reached for her, pushing the shirt away, his hands shaking only slightly. It caught on her shoulders and she shrugged out of it impatiently. She was very nearly naked and Harry's eyes drunk her in with greed. Her arms and legs were brown, tanned, but her body was white, creamy, always covered up. Except for now. This woman whom he'd loved for so long was revealed to him, and she looked stunning.

Much to his surprise, she grabbed the shirt and covered herself back up. "Stop staring and say something!" she hissed at him. He suddenly realised that, as much as they both wanted this, she was nervous.

He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly, gently pushed her flat on her back, looming above her. "You're exquisite."

She blushed and dropped her hands, the shirt finally being thrown aside. He kissed her deeply, tongue plunging into her mouth as his right hand cupped her breast firmly. There were only two items of clothing left on between the pair of them. As he kissed her skilfully she could feel his arousal, hard against her hip. He dipped his head lower and caught her hard nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. She groaned, pulling his head tight against her. "Oh you like that then?"

"Don't stop!" He chuckled and continued licking her deliciously. Her skin was warm and sweet, her sighs and moans music to his ears. He nuzzled into her breasts making her writhe as his stubble tickled her. He pressed a kiss to the centre of her chest and then started heading southwards. She wriggled under him. "No, not now," she said, her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, pulling at the fabric impatiently. "I want you too much to wait."

He almost growled at her and she smiled as her fingernails dug into his bum, hard. Very quickly they pulled the remaining barriers off of their bodies and simply looked at each other in the silence. Ruth admired him quietly. His chest was littered with scars but it made him no less attractive. It made him very real and human. A reminder that this was Harry, the man she'd wanted for so many years. Her eyes were drawn downwards, how could they not be? He was erect and large, and before she could even think, she found her palm reaching for him. He gasped as her hand wrapped around him, her fingers slowly and softly moving over him. He closed his eyes and concentrated as she smiled wickedly at him. Her thumb brushed over him firmly and he couldn't help it. He pushed her flat on her back in a second before he even realised it.

"I have to have you," he said quietly. Her only reply was to smile. She couldn't remember being this happy. He pushed into her slowly as she arched her body up to meet him. She felt warm, wet and tight and it was a struggle for him not to come immediately.

"Oh… oh god," she breathed, eyes closed. He sucked the flesh on her neck, feeling her pulse thundering as he sheathed himself inside her. He kissed her slowly, staying still and then she pulled her mouth free. "I can't," she said suddenly. "Not like this. Not slow. We've waited so long…"

"Okay," he said with a grin. He pulled out of her quickly and she moaned with longing. He teased her, just the tip of him pushing over her wet folds.

"Please Harry!"

"You need to be patient," he said, voice a low growl.

"I need you to fuck me," she said plainly as her eyes popped open. He let his hand drift down and gently feathered his fingertips over her clitoris repeatedly. Not enough to bring her to climax. He knew how to drive a woman crazy and it was clearly working. She kept writhing and moaning unintelligibly and Harry grinned at her. He thrust into her again without warning and she cried out loudly, arched her back, her sweat covered body begging to be kissed. Which is what Harry did, catching her nipple between his teeth and biting delicately. Her hands had draped over his back and she was lost in sensation. Rational thought had vanished, leaving only wanton lust.

Harry pushed into her again hard and she moaned, low in her throat. He loved to hear her cry and groan, it sent darts of heat through him. Knowing he wouldn't last long now, he thrust inside her fast and hard, over and over, gripping her hips to keep her still. "Open your eyes," he breathed. She did, but it took her a few seconds to focus on him. When she did, he pushed his thumb against her clitoris before moving inside her one final time. They both came within a few seconds of each other, he groaning, she mewling with pleasure.  
Completely spent, he collapsed next to her, pulling out of her. She sighed with happiness and turned her body towards him. "That was fantastic," she whispered before promptly falling asleep.

He kissed her head. "Yes it was," he agreed. He closed his eyes too, and soon the room was filled with their quiet even breathing. Oblivion and sleep.

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**Thank you for the reviews. Hope this lives up to expectations.**


	10. Chapter 10

Ruth came to, feeling groggy and sore in a very delicious way. She opened her eyes and saw Harry, peacefully sleeping next to her, no sign of the passionate way they'd started their morning. After a moments consideration she pulled down the duvet several inches, wanting to look at him. His left shoulder had a puckered scar from the shot that Tom Quinn had fired at him. But apart from that she didn't know the history of any of his scars. And she wanted to. She wanted to know everything about him, all of his history before he met her. There was a thick curving scar on the right side of his chest. It was white and the skin had been horribly damaged at one time. Before she could stop herself she ran her index finger across it.

"A curved axe."

"Hmm?"

"You were wondering what caused it," he said opening his eyes. "An axe. And I was bloody lucky to live through it."

"What happened?"

"You tell me about your gunshot, and I'll tell you how the IRA found out I was a spy."

"I didn't think you'd notice," she said, taking her hand away from him.

"Oh Ruth," he said quietly. "I'm interested in more than just this." His hands had wandered, one on her breast, the other between her legs and he stroked her gently, as if emphasising his point. "I want all of you, and when you're naked, I do look at everything. Earlier this morning I noticed that little round mark there." He touched the inside of her upper arm gently. "And I know what a bullet wound looks like. When were you shot?"

"It's not a great story," she said. Harry waited and she sighed. "I don't even think it was meant for me. I was in Istanbul and stupidly went out at night. I got into a bad part of the city and gunshots rung out. I collapsed onto the ground, waiting for them to leave as I guessed they weren't after me. And the blinding pain in my arm meant a quick getaway was impossible. They left, and I got the hell out of the city. I couldn't go to hospital because all gunshots have to be reported to the police. I was supposed to be dead and I didn't want questions asked. So I took a ferry to Cyprus. By the time I got there I knew I needed medical attention. It was infected and throbbing like mad. So I went to a hospital. And… met George."

"Ah," Harry said delicately. "Did he help you?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "I was blathering a bit and he told the nurse in Greek to get him some drugs to calm me down. I replied saying I didn't need anti psychotics. What surprised his was I spoke Greek. Anyway, I don't want to talk about him."

"Fine," Harry agreed. George wasn't his favourite topic of conversation anyway.

"The axe," she prompted.

"Mm, okay," Harry said. "I'd infiltrated an IRA cell. It was only meant to be a short undercover operation because they were planning an imminent attack. They needed someone who could give them access to the British government, so I posed as their way in. I…" he paused and looked horribly guilty. "I had to shoot someone to gain their trust. I still can't believe I did that. I… justify it by knowing that hundreds would have died had that bomb been planted. And the government would likely have fallen too. It's a pathetic reason," he added with heat.

"Who was he?" Ruth asked quietly, holding back her judgement. He didn't need judgement from her, he'd clearly already condemned himself. She also knew instinctively that Harry wouldn't have killed a woman, which is why she assumed the victim was male.

"He used to be an IRA member, but he'd become disillusioned with their methods to make their point. He tried to leave."

"But they asked you to kill him instead."

"Yes," Harry said. "I was young and I didn't know what to do. I had someone listening in from MI5 and I was ordered to do it. Ordered to kill him. I'd like to think of left to my own devices I wouldn't have done it, but that's a lie. I knew we couldn't lose the operation, so even without being told, I'd probably have done it." He looked away from her. "I'm horrified about what I did. Do you want to leave? Now you know?"

"No," she said. "Ever since I started working for you I knew you'd killed people."

"Yes," he said. "But its usually my life or theirs. In that case it's an easy decision. It's instinctual, you don't even think about it at the time. This… I don't know Ruth."

"Did you save lives?" He nodded. "That's why you did it. Did he have family?"

"No. A loner. He didn't have anyone. I didn't know that at the time though." He sighed. "It doesn't even matter really." He fell silent for a long time, and she knew he was blaming himself.

"The axe," she prompted.

"Well, we foiled the plot and got hold of the bomb," Harry said briefly. "It didn't take them long to work out I was a spy. I had backup coming, but not quickly enough. O'Connor was the leader and he got very angry. Thank God he didn't have a gun to hand otherwise I wouldn't be here. We were in a small outbuilding and there was an axe resting against the wall. He grabbed it and swung it at me. If he had known what he was doing, he'd have caved my chest in. As it was, he only gave me a glancing blow. Even so, it caused enough damage and bled badly, as well as almost knocking me unconscious. I collapsed on the floor, playing dead and he was done with me. He just argued with his compatriot. Then I must have passed out. Next thing I remember is waking up in hospital, my wife cursing over me about how stupid I was. Careless, irresponsible."

"Wasn't she glad you were okay?"

"Oh I think she was," Harry said. "But rather than show her relief, she'd rather shout at me to cover her fear." He was suddenly struck by a thought. "What would you do? If I was injured in hospital?"

"Hold your hand and pray," she said.

"Pray?"

"I'm not religious and I don't think I believe in God at all, but at times like that I think… you could use all the help you can get. So yes, I'd pray."

"You're… a remarkable woman," he said. "Not even criticising me for that man I killed?"

"I think you feel guilty enough about that without my help," she said accurately.

"Mm," he said. He stroked her back for long silent minutes and she enjoyed his touch. "Do you want to come back to work."

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I'm not sure. At the moment, all I want to do is lie in bed with you."

"Shall we think of that later then?"

She rolled on top of him, pushing her bare body against his. "Definitely. I'm busy right now." There wasn't anything sexual in the movement, it was simply lying against each other, bare skin to bare skin. There was something comforting in the contact when, for so long, they hadn't even been able to see each other. Harry's arms wrapped around her, holding her close as her head rested on the axe scar. She closed her eyes, as did he, both content to simply be with the other. It didn't matter what the future may bring, or what had happened in the past. Because whatever it was, they would face it. Together.

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**The end.**

**Thank you for reading and especially reviewing this fic. Some more M rated goodness coming soon.**


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